


northern nights, northern lights

by winchesters



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: M/M, sweet princes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-17 16:45:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winchesters/pseuds/winchesters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robb denies his attraction to Theon. His father's ward isn't buying it. Smutty one-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	northern nights, northern lights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NotAllThoseWhoWander](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotAllThoseWhoWander/gifts).



> This is my first smut fic. Please, don't judge me too harshly. Reviews are love. uwu

Given his way, Theon never would have attended the feast. He hated things like this, the long timber hall crowded with lords and ladies and knights and servants, enormous fires filling the place with smoke, everyone bowing and scraping to the visiting nobility. They didn't have this kind of nonsense where he came from, Theon promised himself. No ironborn would put up with this...this tomfoolery. But hard as Theon tried to convince himself, they were weak arguments. Truly, he could barely remember the place he had once called home. 

//

"And then I said-I said, "shut up and suck my cock, or may the gods have mercy on your soul!" Lord Barheart's son slammed his fist on the table, rattling the silverware, as the other men seated at the long table roared in laughter. Robb didn't find it very amusing. Although far from pious, he found the way that most of the lordlings treated girls despicable. They were women, not animals, even if they were whores. Robb was a red-blooded man, a northerner who yearned for the company of a warm, supple body on a winter night. But he had been raised to treat women with respect and dignity, lessons that had surly slipped by his companions. He cast a long-suffering look down the table at Theon Greyjoy, but his father's ward appeared to be drowning himself in a horn of ale.   
"What's the matter, Stark?" Kenael Barheart elbowed Robb roughly, sloshing wine onto his cloak. "Don't fancy girls much? Scared of their cunts? They haven't got teeth down there, you know!"  
Robb scooted away from him, wishing that he could join Jon down at the rows of long tables with the other men. The bastard was drinking ale and talking quietly to one of the Barheart knights.   
"Maybe he's a sword-swallower!" One of the other lordlings crowed, jostling Robb. The eldest Stark stood suddenly, scrambling from the bench, giving no thought to the idea that his sudden departure might validate the lordling's taunts. With their cruel laughter echoing behind him, Robb swept from the hall. 

//

"Leaving the feast so soon, Stark?"   
Robb jumped violently, nearly tumbling down the narrow, winding set of stairs that lead from the main hall to the sleeping quarters on the upper level. Theon Greyjoy stood a few steps below him, leaning against the stone wall and smirking.   
"You nearly killed me, Greyjoy," he snapped, heart racing. Theon ascended the steps in one fluid movement, so that he was standing right in front of Robb.  
"I heard what they said, in the hall. About you being a-"  
"I know what they said," Robb cut him off, voice sharper than he intended. "They're lies. I'm not...I'm not a degenerate."   
Theon crept closer, one hand going to the front of Robb's cloak. His long, slim fingers played gently with the silver clasp, molded into the shape of a snarling wolf.  
"And yet you have feelings...urges...that you cannot deny."   
Robb wrenched away from him.  
"I do not!" He cried, then, horrified at the way that his voice echoed in the stairwell. He lowered it, then hissed, "I do not have urges!"   
Theon glided another inch, closing the gap between them. His body was close, closer than appropriate for two young men alone in a dark stairwell. Theon ground lightly against Robb, pressing their bodies together. Robb resisted the urge to moan out loud. Theon leaned in, pressing his mouth to Robb’s, chaste at first, then hot and demanding. Robb pulled away, shoving Theon’s shoulder.  
“We shouldn’t be doing this! Not-”  
He broke off as Theon moved to kiss his neck, the older boy’s scruffy beard scratching Robb’s skin. Robb groaned aloud, his fingers tangling in Theon’s curly hair.   
“What was that you were saying earlier...something about urges?” The ironborn chuckled softly against Robb’s collarbone.   
“Not-not here,” Robb choked out. He broke away from Theon and stumbled towards his room. Maybe the extra wine during the feast had dulled his senses slightly, and he bumped into the door whilst trying to get inside. Theon followed, stalking him like a shadowcat. Once the door was safely barred, Theon slammed Robb against it, pinning him with kisses and strong hands. Robb shrugged off his cloak and furs, then his doublet, Theon’s body heat keeping him warm. The ironborn shivered.   
“I don’t know how you Starks do it,” he muttered against Robb’s neck. Robb drew Theon’s face up to meet his and kissed him hard.  
“Like this.”   
Theon chuckled.   
“The young wolf knows how to play,” he smirked, his fingers going to the strings of Robb’s breeches. Robb caught his fingers, his hand was trembling.   
“S-stop.”   
Theon paused, cocking an eyebrow.   
“Afraid that I’ll break your maidenhead, Stark?”   
Robb wanted to shove Theon away, stop his crude japes, but he longed for the touch of the other boy’s hand on his skin, for the taste of his mouth, like salt and iron and summerwine.   
“No,” Robb replied, his voice soft. “But I’ve never-”   
“I see,” Theon cut him off smoothly, stilling his shaking hand. “Not to worry, Stark, I’ve taken many a young virgin to bed.”   
And before Robb could protest, Theon had him in hand, breeches unlaced, and his cock was stiffening in the other’s boys hand. He’d touched himself like this before (which young lad hadn’t?) on lonely nights, alone in his room. But it had always been his own hand, never the electric thrill of someone else’s. Robb groaned when Theon gave his cock a few strokes, tilting his head back against the door. Then his father’s ward dipped lower, trailing kisses from his collarbone to his chest, then his stomach. Theon’s mouth was hot, impossibly so, tracing the thin line of hair that disappeared into his breeches. The ironborn slowly worked the stiff rough-hewn pants down until he could draw Robb’s cock out. He dipped his head lower, and Robb groaned and tilted his head back with Theon’s hot mouth brushed the tip of his cock.  
“Seven hells, Theon,” he choked, his voice dropping an octave in lust. The ironborn had obviously done this before, his lips and tongue were doing things that should be illegal in all seven realms, and Robb was canting his hips forward, desperate for more, fucking Theon’s mouth. He heard someone moaning, long, wanton pleas for release. He realized distantly that it was him. Heat pooled in his stomach, his hands were shaking as he stroked them through Theon’s hair.   
“Gods, Theon, I’m going to-”   
He came suddenly, in Theon’s mouth, and he was ashamed but his vision was white-hot and his body wracked with pleasure. Theon swallowed once, and Robb’s face was burning but his limbs felt like jelly, so he slid down the door until he was kneeling in front of Theon. He kissed him softly, and tasted salt. Theon smirked against his mouth.   
“You’re good with your mouth,” his father’s ward said. Robb let out a breathless laugh.  
“Not as good as you are.”   
Theon stood, pulling Robb with him, and made for the door. He was hard, Robb noticed, the outline of his cock visible through his breeches. Robb caught his arm, tugging him gently towards the bed.   
“I’ll go,” Theon said, struggling a little against Robb. “I don’t want you to-”   
Robb pushed Theon backwards until his father’s ward was sprawled on the furs.   
“I want to,” he said. And he unlaced Theon’s breeches, carefully watching the other boy’s face. Theon was panting now, his eyes lidded with lust. Robb took Theon in hand (he didn’t know if he would be able to take his cock like Theon had taken his) and gave it a few preliminary strokes. Theon moaned and arched up into his hand. The boy was loud, louder than Robb, despite his copious experience. Robb quieted him with a kiss, and Theon moaned into Robb’s mouth. Even during this intimate encounter, he was incapable of silence.   
“Fuck, you’re good,” he said breathlessly. “All this time and I never knew...seven hells, Stark-”   
He came into Robb’s hand, groaning his name, not Stark but Robb, and there was something about the way that his name sounded on Theon’s lips that made heat pool in Robb’s belly. 

//

Afterwards, they lay together, Theon still breathing hard, Robb burrowed into his bed furs. The room was chilly, but the boys lay a hand’s width apart. Theon did not like to be touched by others save for moments of intimacy, Robb knew. He did not know why, but he thought it might have something to do with the scars on the other boy’s back. The Iron Islands bred hard men, Theon had always said. Robb suspected that Theon’s hardness had been beaten into him. The thought made him sad. He moved his hand a few inches to the right, brushing Theon’s fingers with his own. Their hands laced together, almost unconsciously, and Robb thought how natural they looked together.


End file.
